


The Tragic Tale of Emilie Agreste

by Justlurkinnothurtin



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU If the show was written for an older audience, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, before canon events, postpartum anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-21 21:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justlurkinnothurtin/pseuds/Justlurkinnothurtin
Summary: A British noble woman attempts to keep her child safe from the most dangerous man she knows, his father.Emilie Graham de Vanily lives with her family inside of a country house while pursuing an acting career much to her mother’s chagrin. After an audition gone wrong, her brother-in-law offers more than a cup of tea. Emilie tries to push past that night and pretend it never happened for the sake of her pregnant twin sister. She meets a solemn costume designer and prop maker who helps her take her mind off the nightmare of that night. Unfortunately, the nightmare turns real when Emilie realizes she is also with child. The costume maker proposes a solution, marry him and he’ll raise the child as if baby is his own. Together, they scheme to carry out their plan so no one questions the baby’s parentage. No matter what they do, disaster seems to follow. Feeling trapped, Emilie takes up a broken miraculous to protect her son, even if it kills her
Relationships: Emilie Agreste & Amélie Graham de Vanily, Emilie Agreste/Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth & Nathalie Sancoeur
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story explores the mental and legal implications of conception by assault. While the assault happens off-screen, in a later chapter Emilie describes what she felt in detail. Emilie also experiences some of the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder and some side-effects specific to assault. Some of Emilie's thought process as she tries to sort out what happened could be very distressing to read. Like it unfortunately happens too often in real life, the perpetrator in this story is never directly punished for their transgressions. One person eventually wages a silent campaign of revenge against Frederick, so he doesn't completely get away with it in the end. 
> 
> I'll do my best to include warnings for potential triggers in A/N before each chapter, for those of you who may need to mentally prepare or opt out entirely. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Non-consensual drugging, implied rape. 
> 
> Thank you for taking a moment to read my story.

Sunlight shined through the tall and plentiful windows of Hillcrest Manor. In the main halls and the west wing of the country house, tour guides were preparing for a long day of showcasing the historic relevance of the country house as well as relics and artworks of old. In the east wing, the side of the house reserved for the private residence of Marquess of Bethany, Alexander Graham de Vanily, and his family, the Marchioness Elizabeth Graham de Vanily, twin daughters of Amelie and Emilie, and son-in-law Frederick, through the marriage of Amelie, the house had not risen from its slumber with one exception. The younger twin of the house of Graham de Vanily prepared for her morning as quiet as a church mouse. While the Marquess and Marchioness were busy traveling on summer tour on the continent, Emilie seized the opportunity to expand her horizons without the overbearing and watchful eye of her mother.

In the hallowed silence of the morning light, Emilie gathered her things and straightened out her understated blue dress. She took one last look in a hallway mirror before departing home. Light makeup, no jewellery, simple ponytail. The mirror revealed no obvious signs of being Emilie of the house of Graham de Vanily. Instead the simple appearance of Emilie Farris, passionate actress stared back at her. Emilie left Hillcrest Manor under slightly false pretences. The most forgiving look at the scenario at hand was Emilie had simply and purposefully did not mention to her sister at which theatre and for what stage production the auditions were being held. Amelie had taken the place of the watchful eye of their mother seriously but was more lenient. Where the Marchioness would add discouraging comments, layered in plausible concern, Amelie was happy to see her sister pursue her passions with the help of family and friends financing projects. Emilie was tired of the perceived kid glove treatment and wanted to experience theatre life without the encumbrance of privilege from her last name. 

Outside the house, Emilie started her car, an old reliable relic. She left early in the morning, knowing it was a long drive ahead of her to the playhouse on the outskirts of London. It was small enough, hopefully, no one would know she who she was. No one would know she was a Graham de Vanily. No one would give her a part. She would earn it. As a wonderful extra, this particular playhouse was putting on _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , one of Emilie’s favourites. After 45 minutes of driving and 10 minutes of trying to find a parking space, Emilie parked and made her way to the theatre.

The theatre itself was an art deco style building from the 1930s made from red bricks and reinforced concrete. The lobby featured several chandeliers reminiscent of star bursts, and the walls were lined with posters from previous shows. Inside the auditorium, the red velvet seats with wooden backs waited to be filled with prospective stars. She took a spot towards the back of the pack of hopefuls.

After the theatre doors closed, the director, James Cross, took centre stage. James Cross was a short, stocky man who dressed plainly, as if any extra effort would detract from his vision. His voice boomed with authority and carefully explained how he wanted the auditions to go. His assistant would group the aspiring actors together and give each group different scenes and parts. As groups were called up to the stage, the group would act out their scene, in multiple rounds, switching parts each round. After all the groups had gone, James would call out certain actors he wanted to see in another group or scene. If call-backs were needed, then Nathalie, the assistant, would reach out in a few days. Parts would be posted next week.

As Emilie waited for the assistant to put her in a group, she spied a familiar, but unexpected face among the crowd. “Frederick, does Amelie know you’re here? I wouldn’t peg you for a man interested in pursuing a theatre career. I think my sister might die of shock if she knew.”

The clean-shaven man of average height and features, stood out from the crowd due to his manner of dress. Frederick was never the best looking, but was almost always the best dressed. His manners were rough around the edges, but the genuine concern and even temperament made it clear to Emilie why her sister chose Frederick to be her husband. Frederick mockingly rolled his eyes his sister-in-law. “I would never deign to be a performer myself, but I appreciate the abilities of those who can. I am financing this production.” There went Emilie’s plan to earn a part without the influence of family. Frederick leaned back in his chair and cast his gaze around the room. “I actually picked this theatre because tickets should be cheaper than anything you’re used to. Shakespeare should be for everyone, and _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ is a masterpiece. I’m sure you’ll be perfect for it.”

“Fingers crossed,” said Emilie. She buzzed with excitement and nervous energy. Eventually the raven-haired assistant made her way to the back of the theatre where Frederick and Emilie sat.

“You, you, you, you and you are group seven. Here is the script. You will be performing Act II, Scene 1. Since there are five of you,” the assistant was interrupted by the financier during the rattling off instructions to her final group.

“Excuse me, Nathalie, but you forgot Ms. Emilie.” Frederick flashed his most charming smile and gestured towards Emilie, who was sitting to his right.

Nathalie acknowledged her mistake. “I’m sorry, sir. I did not realize your guest was interested in being part of this production.” She handed Emilie a copy of the pages they were going to go over for the script. “Ms. Emilie, on the first run through you’ll read Helena.” Nathalie turned to the rest of the group that she had selected for group seven. “You will read Demetrius, you will read Oberon, you Titania, you Puck and you the fairy. On the second and third read through, everyone will switch so all of the women in this group have a chance to read the fairy, Helena, and Titania and all of the men have a chance to read Demetrius, Oberon, and Puck.”

Frederick got up from his spot in order to join the director at the table in front of the stage. He gave a few words of encouragement before departing. “Good luck, Emilie, and don’t over think it.”

At the front of the theatre, at a small judges’ desk, sat the director, James Cross; the assistant, Nathalie; the financier, Emilie’s brother-in-law Frederick; and a man who looked familiar but Emilie couldn’t place. The man had ash blonde hair in low ponytail and fair skin with a pink tint. She caught glances of his face when he turned to speak to the others. Emilie could tell he was wearing black rimmed glasses but couldn’t get a good enough look to jog her memory. Emilie leaned over towards one of the other actresses in her group and whispered. “Excuse me, do you know who the man in the glasses is?”

The actress answered without checking, “who?” The actress looked in the general direction Emilie indicated. “Oh, him. That’s Gabriel Agreste, the costume maker and prop master. He’s a bit of a snob. I wouldn’t waste your time.”

An actress a row ahead of them, joined in the not-so-quiet conversation. “Just because he won’t date you doesn’t make him a snob, Cheryl. It means he has taste.”

Cheryl directed her ire at the eavesdropper. “Shut-up, Denise.”

Denise volleyed back, “bite me.” She turned back in her chair and muttered, loud enough to make sure she was heard, “besides, I heard he prefers blondes anyways,” firing one last shot at the red-headed Cheryl. 

The jabbering group was soon admonished by the topic of conversation himself. “If you are not on stage, then you should be silent.” Emilie shrunk into her chair, embarrassed by the attention, but she finally got a good look at his face. The pale blue eyes were the colour of an eerily calm sky before a tragedy. The serious temperament was chiselled into the stone of his face. Now she remembered. He was a lanky, dour classmate from her A-levels. She couldn’t quite recall which classes they shared and didn’t remember much about him. They ran with different crowds.

Once auditions resumed, Denise, switched seats to be next to Emilie, hoping to carry on the gossip with a fresh face. “She’s not entirely wrong.” Emilie looked over at the actress sporting long brown locks in a messy bun, a feminine touch to her otherwise tomboy looks. Denise kept her voice to a quiet murmur. “I’ve worked with him in a few productions, and the man doesn’t seem to notice anyone. He does make some great costumes. It is only a matter of time before some other theatre notices.”

Emilie matched the barely audible volume of Denise’s murmur. “Thank you, but I was only trying to remember how I know him.”

A wide smile brightened up Denise’s face. “Oh really? What plays have you been in? Or do you mostly do operas and musicals? I think he might have been involved in some concerts as well.”

“Oh, just a few small productions about town. I only know him from school, I’m afraid.” There was one other question that was gnawing at her mind. “Does the prop master normally sit in on auditions?”

“Oh you little lamb,” the petite waif Denise cooed. “James Cross should not be your first real audition. James likes to have lots of eyes at the table, and he trusts Gabriel’s judgement. Gabriel has a special touch for design, but he also helps out with random odds and ends.” Denise continued beyond the question that was asked out of a sense of comradery for all of Denise’s fellow actresses, besides Cheryl. “Don’t get your hopes up on landing a major role. Not to be mean, but directors tend to pick people they have worked with before for parts that can make or break a production. It’s not so much favouritism as its choosing someone they know will show up to practice, take direction without complaint, and work well with others. A newcomer might be great at audition, but a giant dumpster fire behind the scenes. You might not get anything unless someone else can vouch for you or if know someone at the table.”

Emilie appreciated the concern of her new acquaintance. “Well, I know Frederick, but I’d rather work my way up.”

Denise’s eyebrows raised at the mention of Frederick. “You know the investor? How?”

“He’s my brother-in-law,” answered Emilie, certain that her relations would not remain secret for long.

“Okay then, you might get a larger part.” Denise turned her attention back to the auditions in progress. Each group was called up to the stage one by one. Nathalie and Frederickson took turns asking each potential performer a few questions. James and Gabriel appeared to take notes. Each group was intermittently punctuated with James conferring with one of the other members of his judgement table. Nathalie called for group seven.

Frederick and Nathalie ask their questions of group, mostly easy questions relating to either the person’s desire to being in the play or their experience. Frederick lobbed an easy question to Emilie. “Why are you interested in being a part of this production of _A Midsummer’s Night Dream_?”

 _Don’t overthink it._ “Because it’s my favourite comedy of Shakespeare’s. I also love the idea that love is inexplicable and might as well be born from potions applied to sleeping eyes.”

“Thank you, Ms. Emilie.” Frederick talked to the other tablemates. “I’m ready if you’re ready, Nath.”

Nathalie confirmed her readiness. James asked the performers to proceed. Emilie took a few breaths and tried to get in the right headspace. She thought of the worry of Helena would have, baring her vulnerability over and over again only to be rejected, hoping against the overwhelming odds that her love is returned, aware that there is no one else for her but Demetrius. Once it was her turn to enter on the scene, the lines flowed naturally. There was a layer of anxious hope on all of her words, a fervent desire to find some undiscovered way to win back the light of her world. “Your virtue is my privilege: for that, it is not night when I do see your face, therefore I think I am not in the night; nor doth this wood lack worlds of company,” Emilie gestured out to the audience as she spoke of the wood, and unfortunately caught a glance of the director’s table. “For you in my respect are all the world: then how can it be said I am alone, when all the world is here to look on me?” Now her mind was taken over by another worry. In the quick glance she took, she could have sworn that Gabriel was unfocused and drawing. He looked _bored_. 

“And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts… um, to the mercy of wild beasts!”

Emilie was jolted back to the scene. “The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Run when you will, the story shall be changed,” replied Emilie to the round’s chosen Demetrius. The rest of the scene went on without incident, but Emilie kicked herself for the hiccup. On the next round, Emilie’s Titania is proud and on the last round her fairy is obedient. Everything else went fine, but Emilie was certain that her mistake would cost her any part in the play. When auditions wrapped up, Emilie took her leave. Frederick, ever the gentleman, offered her a ride back to Hillcrest. Emilie rejected the offer, preferring to drive herself back and to avoid returning to the scene of her failure to retrieve her car.

On the long drive home, Emilie ran through the auditions in her mind, over and over, wondering what she could have done differently. She lashed herself for being distracted and getting off course. What a display of incompetence! She arrived home before Frederick and had to answer Amelie’s hopeful questions about auditions. Emilie was honest in that she felt it did not go well. Amelie, the supportive sister, offered a listening ear and commiseration. The dramatic twin declined, wishing to get back to work at finding other opportunities nearby since this was not going to pan out. Emilie promised to join Frederick and Amelie for dinner in the gallery, in order to placate her worried sister. Dinner was coloured by Emilie’s disappointment, despite the best efforts of the married couple to look on the bright side. When Emilie finished her familial obligations, she retired to her room.

Emilie’s room was a slice of refuge from the demands of the outside world. Antiquities from eras passed were carefully picked for their sense of warmth and comfort. A four poster bed with rose-coloured linens served as the focal point of the room and stood opposite a stone fireplace. A night stand with a stained glass lamp sat next to the right side of the bed. Along one wall was a writing desk with matching chair and a wardrobe with a carved butterfly and flower motif. In front of the fireplace were two chairs, a floor lamp, and a coffee table.

The chairs were a source of many arguments between the Marchioness and the daughter. The Marchioness felt that more than one chair in her daughter’s room was far too forward. The mother acquiesced to needing separate chairs for reading and for writing, one activity requiring comfort and the other focus. The third chair, a leather chair, had no honourable purpose as far as Emilie’s mother was concerned. It wasn’t until Amelie argued about the need for both Emilie and Amelie to have closed off places to study away from the dining room and rooms in the east wing were in short supply. Amelie may have laid it on a little thick about the importance of needing to avoid going to their classmate’s houses during group projects. What if they had to work with a boy? Did mother really want her daughters in a boy’s room? If there weren’t enough chairs, what if the boy sat on one of their beds? Surely sitting on a bed was more forward than an extra chair. The thought of boys sitting on beds instead of chairs was the last argument needed for the mother to relent to the third chair.

There was a knock at Emilie’s bedroom door. With mother and father off on a tour of the continent, Emilie and Amelie had the full run of the house but barely any guests. Emilie opened her door wide enough to see who was knocking at this hour. Surely her sister didn’t need any help now Amelie had Frederick. Emilie shook her head in disbelief as Frederick stood outside her door. “I, I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know auditions didn’t exactly go as planned.” Frederick held a delicate cup up to cracked open door. “I made you some tea.”

She opened the door wide, perplexed by her brother-in-law’s presence. “Um, thank you. You can set it on the table in front of the chairs.” Something felt off. It felt like an intruder had violated a sacred space, but it was only Frederick. It was only Frederick with tea, something he brought to her room numerous times before, if only during the day. Emilie wasn’t sure what about the night had brought about this sudden distrust. She hadn’t even changed into bed clothes yet. Emilie was still in her dress. The only notable change in appearance from 30 minutes ago, from when she was downstairs, was her hair had been let down. Despite her clothes and appearance, she felt naked and ashamed to be caught that way.

Frederick entered the room and set the cup and saucer on the little coffee table, directly in front of an overstuffed chair with a pattern of tiny cornflowers. Frederick seemed nervous as if he was trying to find the right words. “Do you have a moment to talk? I spoke with the director, and I have some notes from him. I think it might help you in your next audition.”

Emilie nodded and gestured toward the leather chair opposite the overstuffed chair. She took the seat with the cornflower pattern and picked up the tea cup almost out of reflex. While waiting for Frederick to sit down, she took a sip. Her nerves began to calm down almost instantly. The familiarity of being seated with a cup in hand and the warmth of the tea as it spread from her lips and down her throat made her feel at ease. The warming feeling soon spread from the centre of her being to the edge of her skin. All was right with the world. There was no intruder in her scared space. Just Frederick on a chair. There was no shameful nakedness. Just let down hair.

“James thought you had an unmistakable raw talent. The problem, he believes, that you just haven’t had any tragic or romantic experiences to call on.” Frederick leaned forward in his chair, trying discuss the audition as quietly as possible, knowing Emilie had not been entirely truthful to Amelie about the production. “James says there is a certain layer of emotion that people can’t fake. In order to truly be able to portray fear, or distress, or horror, one has to actually experience it first-hand.” Frederick shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to show remorse. “No one believes you have ever experienced fear, not a level Hermia did, knowing that her father would rather put her death than allow her to marry the man she loves. You haven’t experienced the pain and the horror of your lover falling in love with someone else.” Emilie slowly nodded along, taking in every detail. The tea from her cup was mostly gone. She started to feel drowsy, but Emilie needed to know what she could do to perfect her craft.

Frederick continued his explanation, encouraged by his captive, if drowsy, audience. “Take your sister, for example. If she decided to take up acting as a hobby or a profession, then she would have so much to call upon and emote.” Frederick started to rattle on about Amelie, as he was prone to do in almost every conversation. “She fell in love with me. She experienced romance when we were courting. We both know her heartbreaks a little more each month when she sees one blue line.” Frederick put his hand on Emilie’s knee in an act consolation. “If there was some way for you to go out and experience the world a little bit before trying again, to have a deeper, more meaningful scare beyond being startled by a servant, then I think you could be one of greatest actresses anyone has ever seen.”

“It sounds like I better get started then.” Emilie gave Frederick a lazy smile. “It’s getting late, though, and I must really get my rest. Do you mind if we talk more about this tomorrow?”

“Of course,” replied Frederick. “Do you need any help getting into bed before I go?”

Emilie chuckled. “Oh Frederick, always the gentleman. No, I think I can make it the 12 feet over to the bed.” Emilie attempted to rise from her chair, but it was more difficult than she remembered. How long had they been talking? It must have been longer than she thought. The desire to merely go limp in the chair had become stronger than the urge to lay her head down on soft cotton filled pillows on her bed.

If Emilie could have focused then she might have noticed a certain sharpness in Frederick’s gaze. “It looks like you need help. I suggest you take it.” Frederick rose from his chair and held out his hands for Emilie to grasp. After some wobbling, Emilie was able to stand long enough to stumble into Frederick’s arms. He took the opportunity to hold tightly onto his sister-in-law around the waist.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t… know… what’s.. . . off.” Words began to slur, and thoughts were a struggle. Emilie tried to concentrate on anything in the room to help her balance, but her legs were going numb. She slumped in Frederick’s arms. She peered into his face, trying to decipher the evening. Everything seemed to bleed together. “What…isss . . . happening?”

Frederick offered a soft, almost growl into her neck. “You’re about to gain some _experience_.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Victim blaming
> 
> This chapter starts with Emilie's thoughts as she tries to sort out what happened. Like many people who have experienced something traumatic, Emilie looks for ways she could have prevented what happened. I want to stress that what happened is not Emilie's fault. It should not fall to her to prevent such things from occurring. 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read my story. If you have any questions, I can be found on tumblr, same username. I would love to hear from you.

Emilie didn’t leave her bed the day after it happened. She didn’t leave her room the next day or the day after. She wasn’t even sure what happened. She knew she didn’t want to think about it. She knew she didn’t want to see _him._ She didn’t know how she could ever face her sister. It felt like a bad dream. A part of Emilie was desperate to find a cause, a reason why it was her fault. If it was Emilie’s fault, then maybe she could avoid it. Then maybe she deserved it. A part of her was certain, or perhaps desperate, it was all a terrible dream. Emilie wasn’t sure she could cope with a world where _that_ could happen without a reason, without a way to escape such treachery. She had heard half-whispered stories at dinner parties and dances, of young ladies who had, largely depending on the judgement of the teller, been taken advantage of in their naivety or suffered from some moral defect. In all those stories there was the implication that every single one of those ladies wanted it to happen. Emilie now doubted the validity of such stories. Emilie could not think of any single person who wanted that to happen.

Questions and thoughts plagued her mind. What if Frederick told someone? What if he said she wanted it to happen? Did she give off some unknown signal, showing intent and desire while she was unaware? After all, Emilie could have taken the tea and asked him to leave. She could have rang for someone to help her to bed. She could have never opened the door. She could have done a better job at hiding her disappointment with the auditions.

A knock at the door sent a bolt of freight through the unmarried lady. For a moment, Emilie was terrified that Frederick’s lust had not been sated. When she heard the bright and playful voice of her sister, Emilie felt a wave of guilt. Amelie didn’t deserve any fallout from this. “Emilie, are you going to stay in bed all week? It was one bad audition. It’s not the end of the world. Besides, if you never get out of bed, then I guess I’ll have to tell Frederick to tell the director that you are not interested in the part of Peaseblossom.”

Amelie heard the shuffle of her dramatic sister crawling out of bed and making her way towards the bedroom door. The door opened a crack and a completely dishevelled Emilie could be seen in the gap. Emilie’s face was shiny with grease and her hair was teased and knotted. The crumpled blue dress looked like it hadn’t been taken off in days. “I take it back. If I looked like that, I wouldn’t get out of bed either.” Upon closer inspection, Amelie determined that her sister had been crying. Even if Amelie thought that Emilie was prone to overreaction, Amelie still didn’t want to see her only sister hurt. “I’m sorry. I know that the play was important to you, but you at least still got a part.” Amelie tried to use her pleasant disposition to cheer her sister up. “I also have some good news. Why don’t you freshen up and join us downstairs?”

Through the crack in the door Amelie heard a confused voice say, “Us?”

“Frederick and I, silly. Mother and Father are still overseas and they won’t be back until after the summer at least.” Amelie reminded the absent-minded sister. “Please leave your room. It might make you feel better to get out of your room and join the land of the living.”

“Fine,” said Emilie. She was worn down by her sister’s requests and worried that she couldn’t recall what day of the week it was. “Give me a moment to take a shower.”

Amelie agreed, “I think at this point, it would be a requirement. I am going to check on you in an hour to make sure you are actually taking steps to leave your room.”

“Okay,” Emilie’s soft voice agreed. Somehow Emilie gathered enough motivation to drag herself to the shower. When all the tiny adjustments to temperature, water pressure, and spray settings were done, the searing water beat down upon on the woman in a concentrated jet. For ten minutes, Emilie let the water rain down its cleansing vengeance. The constant assailing water droplets gave Emilie something tangible to feel and to react to. The water held no judgement. The water ran down her body, dragging every bit of soap, grime, grease, and dried evidence down the drain. The world became a little more real. That night became a little more like a terrible dream. 

Downstairs, Amelie waited for her sister’s presence in the drawing room. Although they disagreed on almost every topic, the sisters were very close in their relationship. Amelie thought an acting career was a waste of Emilie’s mind. In Amelie’s eyes, Emilie was smart, caring, and passionate. Emilie could be changing the world, and instead the dramatic sister would rather prance about on stage. Amelie still supported Emilie. Once she had heard that a smaller stage production was in need of an investor, Amelie started needling her darling Frederick into providing the influx of cash. She knew her sister would look for stage productions that were beyond the family influence, but Amelie wanted to keep tabs on Emilie. The married sister had heard tales of desperate actresses willing to do anything for a part and believed Frederick would help keep Emilie away from that crowd.

Amelie rose from the couch in time to see her sister walk into the room. “I’m so glad you were able to come downstairs. I’m sorry you missed Frederick. He left about half an hour ago for a meeting.” Amelie worried about her sister. Emilie always had a flair of a dramatic, and, according to what she could get out of Frederick, the auditions had gone rather poorly. The reaction didn’t match the Emilie she knew. The Emilie she knew would be searching every promising casting call and looking into every option to take advantage of not bickering with their mother over her lifestyle choices. Amelie was suspicious that something else happened either at the audition or shortly after that to throw her sister off her keel. “Are you okay? I feel like something has happened and for some reason you won’t tell me.”

Emilie froze. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Amelie pressed on, worried that she wasn’t doing enough to help her sister. “Is it about a guy? You can talk to me about anything. I promise I won’t judge or tell mom or dad or Frederick.”

The younger twin avoided her sister’s gaze and pleaded in a low, quiet voice. “Can we please drop it? I want to forget it ever happened. Please don’t ask me about it.”

The older twin was certain her theory rang true. “It is a guy. Did he hurt you? Does he not love you back? Any man worth his salt knows you’re a catch.”

Emilie stared at the floor and spoke softly. “Nothing he did could be described as love.” Hoping to distract her sister from the current investigation, she switched topics. “Don’t you have good news to share?”

Amelie couldn’t help but focus on her sister. “Are you sure you want to hear it? It sounds like you just went through your first major heartbreak, and I want you know everything is going to be fine. There are plenty of people out there who think you are marvellous. All you need to do is open your eyes.”

“Thank you, sis, but really, I would much rather hear your good news to get me out of my funk. Don’t ask about it ever again.” Emilie spoke, attempting to conclude any further discussion on her suspected heartbreak. 

“Fine. You know how Frederick and I have been trying for a baby?” The smile on Amelie’s face was so intense, it pushed her cheeks into her eyes. Amelie pointed her belly and let out a tiny squeal.

“Oh my god.” As Emilie spoke, her tone was lifeless and her face was slack.

Amelie reached out and held her sister’s hands, too excited to contain her news. “I know. It’s way too early to tell anyone, but since we all live together for now, I thought you would notice all the symptoms.” Amelie and Frederick had been living in the manor while their cottage was being built. They had offered to hold off on moving until the parents returned from the extended holiday.

“This is so exciting. I’m so happy for you.” Emilie’s voice was flat, betraying the turmoil underneath the surface.

“It’s okay to not be very excited. Heartbreak can be so consuming when it happens.” Amelie understood more than anyone that not every moment could be completely hers. Being a twin involved sharing almost everything, and Emilie made such sharing an easy task. Whatever Emilie was feeling now, eventually there would be some moment where the tables were turned and Emilie would be as understanding and caring as needed. “It might be helpful if you got out of the house more. I know rehearsals will start soon, but maybe you can help build sets or something.”

Emilie dismissed her sister’s idea. “I’m fairly certain they have set builders for that.”

Amelie was determined to find an excursion for her sister to help take Emilie’s mind off the ‘heartbreak.’ “Oh, I know, you could help out the prop master, Gabriel, with inventory. Frederick has worked with him often enough that Frederick knows Gabriel goes through all the props and costumes before every new run.”

“If I didn’t know any better, then I would think you were playing match maker.” The last thing Emilie wanted was forced pairings, especially with anyone with whom Frederick was familiar. 

With an exaggerated eye roll, Amelie countered her sister’s mock concern. “Please, the man might as well be blind when comes to attraction. You might remember him as the scowling, lanky boy from school, but Gabriel has grown into his looks. Now he’s a stern, imposing figure that makes his co-workers swoon, and he only sees them as lifeless mannequins who exist to parade his designs on stage.”

“Sounds like someone has a little crush.” The unmarried twin deflected.

Amelie could not be deflected and continued. “I’m married, not blind. I’ve watched some of the dress rehearsals with Frederick on prior productions. I’ve seen the lengths some of these actors and actresses will go to try to get his attention. One of them purposely tore her skirt to force him to fix it. She didn’t think it through, though. Gabriel was not amused and handed her a spare skirt he had laying around.” Amelie leaned in closer to Emilie, and let her sister in on her next theory. “Personally, I think the real reason is Gabriel and Nathalie are secretly an item.”

Emilie’s curiosity got the best of her. “What makes you say that?”

“They always work together, and no matter where one of them is, the other is never too far behind.” Amelie was satisfied with her sister’s interest, however gotten. “Anyway, I think helping out the costume maker would be an easy way to get out of the house and get your mind off things.”

Emilie was worn down by her sister’s persistence. “I do find costumes fascinating. Do you really think he needs the help?”

Reassurance was offered quickly by a pleased Amelie. “Don’t worry about that. I’m sure Frederick can arrange something.” And Frederick did arrange for a volunteer opportunity on Saturday at the theatre at eight in the morning.


End file.
